Satisfied Navigation
by IvyJaneLily
Summary: One shot, set in S3.01 - Tom's drink is spiked by Larry Grey and he gets sent to bed early. Thomas, as his assigned valet, is sent to undress him, and this my story of what happened when he did. Warning for M/M slash, and probably not a great read for Tom/Sybil shippers either.


**A/N: This is a one-shot of Tom and Thomas, simply because I haven't finished the first chapter of my next story yet, and wanted to do a smutty, slash scene with my two favourite actors', ahem, I mean characters', bromance. I've only written it tonight, so I hope you enjoy it! Bonus points for guessing why I've titled it Satisfied Navigation...**

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"Mr Barrow!" The sound of heavy footsteps came crashing down the stairs, and the footman appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

Thomas looked up; Alfred was bearing down on him, his reddened face blending into his hair, giving him the appearance of a giant carrot. Thomas smiled to himself at the comparison. "What do you want?" he drawled in reply, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Mr Branson has been escorted to bed - he was acting all out of sorts at dinner, everyone thought he was drunk, but then that old codger that Edith fancies confessed that he saw Mr Branson's drink get spiked by Mr Grey, and then Matthew asked him to be his best man, and then Lady Sybil took him to his room to rest, but she's gone back to the dinner now." Alfred was out of breath - whether it was from running down the stairs or talking without pausing, Thomas didn't know. Or care, for that matter.

Thomas furrowed his brow. "And what's that got to do with me?" He said, exhaling tendrils of smoke from his lips.

"Well, me and Mr Carson have got the rest of the dinner to serve, you see, and you ARE s'posed to be his valet..." Alfred trailed off, noticing the grim expression on Thomas' face.

"And he wants me to come and undress him, does he? Well, he's got another think coming!" Thomas stubbed out his cigarette and stood up from the table.

"I doubt he actually wants you to undress him, Mr Barrow. I'm only telling you what Mr Carson told me to tell you. But he was not quite right in the head when he left the table - he was talking quite animatedly about Ireland, it was quite funny actually! He really embarrassed himself, and Sybil. Embarrassed the whole family really!"

Thomas, who had turned to walk away from Alfred, stopped in his tracks. _So Tom was that squiffy, was he? Hmm, this might be fun after all. I'm not sure I can miss the chance to see Tom acting like total fool - it'll teach him to get ideas above his station!_

"Tell Carson I've gone to see to Mr Branson," he directed at Alfred, who was on his way back up to the dining room. Alfred looked surprised, but said nothing. Thomas was someone he really didn't understand, and probably never would.

Thomas ascended the stairs, wondering what kind of state Tom was likely to be in. He's probably already asleep, he thought, with a pang of disappointment.

He reached Tom's room, and entered without knocking. Tom was sitting on this bed, facing away from him. His head was down, and he appeared to be shaking.

_Surely he's not crying?_ Thomas thought, any respect he had for the Irishman gone in an instant. He stepped further into the room, and cleared his throat.

Tom's head whipped round, and he gave a cry of surprise. Thomas' eyes wandered down to Tom's lap, and in an instant he realised that he had, in fact, walked in on Tom masturbating furiously. Thomas' eyes widened at the sight - Tom was quite well endowed, and it had been several years since he had seen a sight like this. Thomas almost licked his lips with delight.

"Sybil, is that you love?" Asked Tom, trying to pull up his trousers.

Thomas debated whether to leave to save Tom's modesty, but decided that honesty was the best, and most embarrassing, policy.

"No, Mr Branson, it is Mr Barrow from downstairs. Surely you remember me from when we were work colleagues?" Thomas couldn't resist a bit of sarcasm, relishing in the awkwardness of the man before him.

"Oh yes, Mr Thomas. The wonderful Barrow. Come here to gloat, have you? Well, now you've seen it all!" Tom was a picture of shame and annoyance, slurring his words as he stood up to face Thomas.

"Indeed I have, Mr Branson," said Thomas with a smirk. "I have been instructed to see to you as a valet this evening. I trust you know what that involves?"

"I don't need your help, thanks!" Said Tom, bending down to untie his shoelace, who promptly lost his balance, and toppled to the floor.

"Forgive me for saying this, but I think you do. Here, let me." Thomas almost began to pity the Irishman, who was looking decidedly sorry for himself. He kneeled on the floor before him, starting to undo one of Tom's shoelaces. Slipping off the first shoe, Thomas moved onto the second. He couldn't resist the occasional glance at Tom's crotch; his trousers were still undone from his previous frolicking.

"She won't let me sleep with her, you know?" Said Tom, looking sad. "Sybil, I mean. Since she's been expecting."

Thomas knew what Tom was getting at but decided to play dumb. "Do you snore or something? Maybe some ear plugs would help." He took of each of Tom's socks, and stood up to undo his shirt.

"No! You know that's not what I meant! I mean, she won't let me touch her. She thinks it'll hurt the baby. I told her that's ridiculous - that's a point - you've done some medical training - tell me she's being ridiculous?"

Thomas smiled wryly to himself as he prepared his answer. "To be honest, pre-natal advice is not my strong point. Surprisingly, there's not much call for it in the army."

Tom failed to sense the sarcasm in Thomas' reply. "Oh really? That's a shame, it would've been good to give her some medical advice from a professional."

Thomas tried to keep a straight face - Tom really _was_ out of it. Pressing the matter further, purely for his own wanton curiosity, he continued: "So you're saying that, since Lady Sybil has been expecting, she's not been very _accommodating_ to your needs?"

"Aye that's what I'm saying, Barrow, I mean Mr Thomas. We've not been married long, and I miss being with her in that way. She's not the first woman I've been with, but she's certainly the best by far." Tom adopted a dreamy expression, swaying slightly as Thomas removed his shirt with a flourish.

Thomas laid the shirt on the chair by the dresser, and was in the process of pulling down Tom's trousers, when he noticed that Tom was extremely aroused. Kneeling, and holding Tom's trousers by his knees, he paused for a second to admire the bulge in Tom's underwear. His face was inches away; he had a mad voice in his head telling him to caress the arousal with his tongue. His sensible head battered his mad head around the face with an axe, so he stood up, the moment passed.

Tom was standing with his eyes closed, murmuring to himself. "Sybil...Sybil, please..."

Thomas cocked his head to the side, wondering what to do next. Tom was standing in his undershirt and pants, his straining erection leaving little to the imagination.

Tom was still mumbling to himself, quietly. "Please, Sybil, touch me, I beg you..." He held out his hands towards Thomas, his eyes still tightly shut.

Thomas didn't quite know what to do. Here was a man, handsome, undressed, and wanting. _Surely it would be rude to refuse, wouldn't it? _ Thomas kneeled on the floor in front of Tom, careful not to make any sudden movements in case Tom opened his eyes and the illusion was broken.

"Thank you, my love! Oh you've no idea how long I've been wanting for your sweet touch!"

Bemused, Thomas moved his good hand towards Tom's erection, and touched him through his underpants. Tom gasped at the contact between them, and his knees buckled; a combination of the illicit substance slipped into his drink, and the illicit hand, slipping into his pants.

Thomas grasped Tom's length with one hand, and pulled down his pants with the other, taking his time to remove them completely. He released Tom's cock from his hand, watching as it sprung towards him, almost knowingly. Opening his mouth, he slid his tongue from the tip to the end of the shaft, marveling at the length of it. _Sybil's one lucky lady!_ Thought Thomas, trailing his tongue back up to the tip, lapping up the droplet of liquid forming there.

Tom groaned loudly; he had not been pleasured like this for a long time. Thomas wanted to tell him to be quiet, but he feared the sound of his manly tones would still Tom from his imaginings. Tom was still murmuring Sybil's name, and Thomas felt a mixture of guilt, at _not _being the one Tom so desired, and offense, for pretty much the same reason.

Opening his mouth widely, Thomas took Tom into his mouth fully, pressing his lips down around Tom's shaft. Tom gasped as Thomas moved his lips up and down his cock, rapidly circling the tip with his tongue. Tom threw back his head and placed his hands on Thomas' hair. Thomas froze; he worried that Tom would 'realise' that he was not Sybil, and halt the proceedings immediately. Thankfully, Tom either didn't notice, or chose not to; he was enjoying the sensations he was receiving far too much. He thrust his hips forward, trying to penetrate Thomas' mouth as far as it would allow.

"Sybil, yes! That feels grand!" Feeling himself nearing a climax, Tom tried to hold back as much as he could. He didn't want this moment to end; he wanted to carry on the pretence for as long as possible, not wanting to face up to the sordid reality of the situation.

Thomas grinned inwardly - he sucked harder, relishing the power he had over the man before him. He realised how much he missed these nocturnal activities with another man - the salty taste, the moist hotness, the throbbing flesh - all surrendering to his touch. He felt Tom's cock quivering with lust, and knew what was about to come. Daringly, he slid a hand between Tom's thighs and pushed his thumb into Tom's entrance, massaging his sweet spot. Tom's back arched; Sybil had never touched him in that way before, and it was heavenly.

"Oh God, Sybil! Oh God!" Tom bucked his hips and came in Thomas' mouth, spurting two, three, four times down the back of Thomas' throat. Thomas swallowed noisily, and trailed his tongue from the base of Tom's shaft all the way to the head, cleaning him up carefully. He placed a small kiss on the tip, and tucked Tom's cock back into his underpants. He could feel his own erection straining in his trousers, leaking shamelessly into his underpants.

Standing up, he was startled when Tom's eyes flew open, and wondered if he was going to be angry at the incident that had just taken place. Thankfully, Tom walked over to his bed, and climbed in. Resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes, he simply said: "Good night, Mr Thomas."

Bemused, Thomas replied, "Good night Mr Tom," and shook his head in disbelief at the occurrence that had taken place just moments before.

A small snore escaped from the sleeping figure of Tom, and Thomas took this as his cue to leave. Closing the door quietly, he reflected on what had just happened.

_What the Hell was that? _He thought, taking back his senses. _I've never even found him attractive before, and I've just spent the last ten minutes sucking him off? God, I must be desperate! It's been far too long since I've had a chance to do something like that. Maybe when Lord G is hiring again, we could have another footman in. Alfred's definitely not that sort...not that I'd touch him with a barge pole! But maybe a nice, young blond for me to cast my eye over...yes, I think I'd like that very much..._


End file.
